How could this happen to me?
by Peregrin2
Summary: Things arn't right between Howard and Vince. Song fic.


I open my eyes

I open my eyes  
I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light.  
I can't remember how  
I can't remember why  
I'm lying here tonight  
And I can't STAND the pain  
And I can't make it go away  
No I can't STAND the pain

_Vince examines his pale reflection – even paler tonight than it's usual milky white tone - in the mirror. Eyeliner and mascara have formed rivers of tar, streaked across his delicate cheeks. He looks a mess, but it doesn't matter. __**He**__ won't notice. __**He **__never notices anything Vince does these days. For and entire week now Vince has been using a different brand of hairspray. It has left his lustrous locks looking thicker, fuller and shiner than ever before. Even the scent was different, Vince's hair now smells like jasmine, but has __**He **__noticed? Of course not._

_Nothing mattered anymore. There was nothing left to live for. _

How could this happen to me  
I've made my mistakes  
got nowhere to run  
The night goes on as I'm fading away  
I'm sick of this life  
I just wanna scream  
How could this happen to me

_Vince watches his reflection as, with trembling hands, the mirror-Vince reaches up to the bathroom cabinet. Then the door is open and he can no longer see himself any more, just the toothpaste and floss, and – that's it, that's what he's been looking for. The drugs. _

_He stares at the bottle in his hands, takes a deep breath through the sobs that are wracking his chest and fumbles with the child-proof top as he tries to undo the lid. _

_Geunius, he thinks bitterly, I can't even kill myself properly. What a nonce. _

_Wiping his eyes with the back of a hand, smearing makeup across it in the process, he tries again, and this time succeeds in twisting off the top with a satisfying 'pop'. _

_His face screws up in concentration as he pictures __**His**__ face in his mind for one last time, and downs the Calpol. The sugary liquid coats his teeth and throat as he swallows repeatedly. I'd better clean my teeth before I go to bed, is his last thought as he hits the ground with a thud. _

Everybody's screaming  
I try to make a sound but no one hears me  
I'm slipping off the edge  
I'm hanging by a thread  
I wanna start this over again  
So I try to hold  
On to a time when  
Nothing mattered  
And I can't explain  
What happened and I can't erase the things that I've done  
No I can't

_He can hear __**Him**__, calling out his name. He can feel __**Him**__ as he shakes him, desperately trying to rouse him. Vince tries to answer, tries to open his eyes, if he could just look at him for one last moment, then perhaps, perhaps… But it's too late now and the voice is fading. There's no time left to tell him how he feels. Vince feels himself slipping away as Howard cradles his lifeless body, and Bollo and Naboo can only watch passively. Nothing more can be done. It's too late to undo what's happened._

_Why couldn't he see me before? Why couldn't he hold me like this before? _

How could this happen to me  
I've made my mistakes  
got nowhere to run  
The night goes on as I'm fading away  
I'm sick of this life  
I just wanna scream  
How could this happen to me

_He looks like an angel, Howard thinks. His face is calm and smooth, his hair spread out behind his head like a dark halo. How could he do this? How could he leave me like this? How could this happen? Surely he knew just how much he meant to him! Surely he knew how much he was loved and adored! _

_His eyes brim with tears, and, one by one the,y begin to pour fourth, until they become a torrent, gushing down his face and dripping onto Vince's body, still cradled in his arms. He can't stop them. He doesn't want to stop them. All he can do is howl in grief as the night turns into day, and he is left there, alone on the bathroom floor. _

I've made my mistakes  
got nowhere to run  
The night goes on as I'm fading away  
I'm sick of this life  
I just wanna scream  
How could this happen to me


End file.
